Reflection
by Bookwormjavajunkie
Summary: Jess reflects on his life before Stars Hollow. Some sensitive areas.


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Disclaimer: I own these thoughts, this computer, and a poem I use in here. That's all. But ASP why don't you sell me Jess since all you want to do is screw him over? I'll do good things with him. (Not in that way.)

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A/N: Dia is muire dhuit mi ghras. In other words: hey guys. I know I'm not done with any of my stories but this was here and it had to be written. In honesty, it was something that I was thinking about my life but realized it fit Jess' character pretty well too so I manipulated my thoughts to fit him. So, here is some insight on Jess and me all in a one-shot reflection.

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Jess' POV

Sometimes I just want to give up. I want to say I don't care anymore, put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. I've never been able to though. I've slit my wrists, popped pills, pretty much begged for someone to kill me. But I've never been able to bring the ultimate end to myself. I wonder why that is. It's not like I'm staying for any reason, I have no one and no where to go. I'd be better off dead. Right?

I don't remember my father. He left when I was a baby. I guess he couldn't handle the responsibility. Or maybe he just hated me. Who knows? Who cares? All I know is he left me there with Liz-- that bitch that calls herself my mother. Oh, I remember hating her even before I could walk. She couldn't handle being a mom, it wasn't in her agenda. She rarely fed me, changed me even less. I don't remember being bathed more than twice in one week. She always smelled of liquor and cheap perfume. You know, the kind you can buy at the Dollar Store? I cried every time she picked me up. I couldn't stand her, and the feeling was mutual.

As I grew up I learned there were things I could do to cope. I went to school everyday, whether I was sick or not. I got some time away and a meal. And hey, I liked school. The teachers were nice, and there were other kids I could play with. I got all A's all the time. After school I'd go to the library, do homework, and lose myself in a good book. I grew up with role models like Austen, Dickens, Poe, Hemmingway. I had always liked Hemmingway. When finally I had to go home, I pulled something out of the refrigerator for dinner and went into my room and closed the door. I'd put on my headphones and blare music into my ears reading whatever I had handy. This is what kept me sane.

I knew Liz was a hooker. That's how we got our food. I didn't know that she was an addict. I mean, yeah, I knew she was an alcoholic, but not an addict. Until one day, when the library had closed early, I walked into the kitchen to get something to eat. And there she was, a belt looped around her arm, jabbing a needle into her arm. I walked in as blood gushed from the vein she had pierced. I knew enough to know what she was doing. With tears in my eyes, for I had truly hoped there was one ounce of goodness in my mother, I ran out of the apartment we shared yelling fuck you.

I didn't come back for three days.

Things were never the same after that. I knew my mother to be the gin soaked whore and junkie she truly was. I stayed away from her as much as possible. I stayed in my room when I didn't have to come out, drowning out the sounds of her and one of her johns, or her fighting with her latest boyfriend. I stayed locked up with my music and my books letting my anger and hatred grow and grow. Things were like that until middle school. I met some boys. We hung out a lot, got drunk. Robbed a couple of shops. No big deal. Yeah, sure I got arrested. I didn't care. More time I could spend away from Liz right? When I hit puberty I began to sleep with girls. I don't even know how many. It helped ease the pain I had forgotten I had. Sex was ugly. For Liz and for me. 

I think that was the final straw. I had tried to kill myself before, plenty of times. I had popped pills, slit my wrists. I got into fights I knew I couldn't win hoping that they'd kill me. Praying that they'd kill me. I couldn't die. I didn't die. I knew Liz kept a gun in a drawer beside her bed. I went in and got it. She didn't notice. She was in the living room, drunk, fighting with her latest boyfriend. I checked the gun. Loaded. I went into my room, turned my radio on without the headphones and blasted it. I didn't want her to hear me. I stuck the gun to my head and held it there. My hands never trembled, my conviction never wavered. I would have done it except.........

Except Liz came busting in. 'Turn that shit down!' She yelled. She looked at me, gun to my head, eyes blank, finger twitching on the trigger. She grabbed the gun from me and threw it down yelling at me, cussing, making no sense. The one thing I heard was the thing that changed my life. 'I've had it with you! I can't handle you anymore! I'm send you to Luke's maybe he'll straighten you out.' I had no idea who Luke was. I didn't really care. I had it in my head to die once I got there anyway.

Here I am. I've been here only a few days. The book I'm reading is Howl. It's Rory's. I stole it from her. There's something about her that appeals to me. I've been with women before, trust me. But there's something different with her. If I thought I was capable of the emotion, I'd think I might be able to fall in love with her. Huh. Suddenly I don't want to die anymore. I'm thankful to Luke, he got me out of that mess. But no one can know how it was. They'd look at me like I'm a freak. I am. I will find a way out before I get to involved. But I have to have her. I won't hurt her but I have to touch her. I'll hurt her either way, I have to stay away. But I can't.

"Mr. Mariano?" The teacher asked me a question but I don't know what it is.

"Uh. Four?" I answer and everyone around me starts to laugh.

"Very funny Jess. Please pay attention. Anyone know the real answer?" She says.

Why? Geometry. What's the point? It won't get you through life. Oh well. I think I'll find her today, show her a trick. 

I'm still Jess Mariano.


End file.
